DISCLAIMER: There is no point to this. I own it. It's mine. But the 007 stuff isn't, that belongs to Ian Flemming.
Author's Note: Thank you to all who reviewed! This is the final chapter of OUAP. I hope you all have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. It's good to know I'm capable of writing humor. Albeit I didn't really like this chapter much but even if all you get out of it is a couple of half-hearted chuckles...I am pleased. (Oh and free prize to whoever can guess where the number, 211, comes from.)
Chapter Eleven
I adjusted my tie. "Everyone ready?"
Behind me thirteen heads of various shape, color, size, and sex nodded the affirmative.
"All right. Let's go." I took a deep breath and, plastering my best PR grin across my face, strode confidently through the double glass doors of the Brother's Grimm Fairytale Mafia National Headquarters.
I spotted the receptionist immediately and, making my way to her desk, confidently demanded, "I need directions to Martha Washington's office."
The little woman peered over her bifocals and down the bridge of her nose, eyes narrowed. She reminded me somewhat of a pencil, short and thin, with ramrod posture, yellowish skin covered with liver spots and a gray bun atop her head that could have passed for an eraser. And she was perfectly silent. This wasn't going as well as I had planned.
When at last she spoke, she moved her lips in an exaggerated motion as though enunciating clearly for a very small child. "Were you absent the day they taught manners in grammar school?"
My face twitched, trying to maintain its assured grin, "Uh, I..."
"Well, as Martha Washington has been dead nearly two hundred years..."
"SHE'S DEAD?!" I clutched the countertop.
Pencil Woman cocked an eyebrow, "Very funny."
"But she was just in my office yesterday!"
"The First Lady is dead and as it would be quite impossible to find her here, please take your..." she glanced behind me at my comrades, "...friends...and leave."
I let out a half-relieved sigh, half laugh, "No, no...she's my secretary!"
The enunciating lips opened again to reprimand me but before they could I was shoved out of the way by a very perturbed horse of a very charming prince.
"Do pardon my friend's rudeness gentle lady, he did not mean any offence." Behind us, two frilly princesses, one frogman, one old hag, seven homosexual midgets and one cross-dressing wolf snickered. The receptionist turned her frown to Prince Charming and now seemed more wary than peeved.
The Prince flashed his dimpled smile and continued, "The Mrs. Washington my friend refers to is not this nation's primary first lady, but rather our former secretary of the same name."
"Oh," she emitted a small laugh. I had seen Charming do this routine before. Five minutes and he'd have this woman swooning at his feet. Without the armor and stallion he could have easily passed for...
"Bond. James Bond." A rather handsome older man boasting a British accent and tuxedo strode up to the desk. He flashed a business card. "How are you MoneyPenny?"
With two magnanimous men suddenly turning on the charm for her full blast a woman could hardly be better. She swallowed and smiled girlishly, a smile that was rather out of place on such a severe face. "Doing well. You are here for your meeting with the Brother's Grimm, Mr. Bond?"
"How do you do it MoneyPenny? You astound me every time!"
She was batting her eyes rapidly now, "Fifth floor, room number 518."
Bond winked at her and strolled off to the elevators.
She sighed after him and said dreamily to Charming, "He's an ambassador from Britian." Then stood and pointed to the elevators, "Mrs. Washington will be on the second floor. Room number 211."
Prince Charming reached out, took her hand, and kissed it gallantly. "You have been so kind, thank you ever so much."
"All right, all right," the Big Bad Wolf growled, "Now let's go!"
The elevator doors opened with a ping! Cinderella handed the Big Bad Wolf his microphone and the Evil Witch flipped on her video camera. I shrank to the back of the lift as they filed out. Somewhere, a funky theme song began to play.
Through the crowd I could see the Joneses rise in unison and demand, "What is this? Who are you?"
The Evil Witched turned to zoom in to the Big Bad Wolf's face as he announced in an excellent impression of Alex Trebeck, "Hello, and welcome!" He (She? It was dressed in another pink nightgown.) threw an arm around the Left Jones, "I'm your host, B. B. Wolfe and you are on the newest reality show..."
The Seven Dwarfs swarmed around the black hit men and sang, "QUEER EYE OF THE MIDGET GUYS!"
The Joneses gave each other quizzical looks behind their mirrored sunglasses. B. B. Wolfe continued, "Starring the 'Superfluous Seven'! ADOLF!"
Adolf threw out his chest, "In GROOMING!"
"BENNO!"
Benno bowed deeply, "In FASHION!"
"CONRAD!"
"COOKIN'!" he spit into a fake fern.
The Wolf continued his spiel "DEDRICK!"
"INTERIOR DESIGN!" Dedrick pulled open his blazer and whispered, "And I can sell you some nice gold plated toothbrushes as well!"
"EDMUND!"
In a rap-star voice, "HAIR!"
"FRANZ!"
"HEALTH!" he called as he took a long drag from his joint.
"AAANNNDDDD....GUNTER!"
Gunter simply stood there.
"Well, ah...he's culture," the Wolf stage whispered.
The Right Jones nervously pushed away a pair of dwarf hands that were feeling the faberic of his suit and said, "Look here, we don't have time for..."
He never finished his sentence. Before he could draw a breath both men were being tugged away by the Suplerflous Seven and their production crew.
I slunk down the hall as stealthly as I could, followed by a Prince on a horse and a frogman and his wife. (Amazingly the horse did the best job of being inconspicious.)
When I finally reached the door I paused and said excitedly, "All right, Charming, you stay here and guard the enterance. Fred and Daisy, you create a diversion if anyone tries to enter. I'm going to go in there and win back my secretary!"
Daisy tilted her head, "How are you going to do that?"
"I have no idea!"
The three characters looked at each other and Fred slid me a sideways glance. "Great plan Doc."
I threw up my hands, took a deep breath...and entered the office.
Martha was sitting at her half-organized desk, munching on a turkey club sandwich while she straitened a picture frame. Her glasses chain bore musical notes today, which coordinated well with her black-on-white dress whose musical print was actually the notes to "Flight of the Bumblebee".
I cleared my throat.
Whatever fantasies I had had about Martha running to my arms flew rapidly out the window. The only reaction I provoked was a "go to hell" look and an expellation of air from her nostrals which, any stronger and I think it would have been considered a snort.
Being the stupid man I am I decided to take a hint from the British Ambassador of Fictional Characters and try again.
I swaggered up to her desk and said in my most sultry voice, "The name is Higgenbotham. Daniel Higgenbotham."
She rolled her eyes and turned her back on me. This really was not going well. That's the trouble with the name Higgenbotham...it's just to darn long.
"Martha won't you listen to me for just one minute?"
"No."
Well that's about as strait forward of an answer as you can get. "Please? Look I've come all this way and gone to a great deal of trouble to get in here."
"And how you did I will never know. My hitmen should have stopped you at the elevators." She slammed down a stack of files.
"The Joneses are a little busy at the moment."
For the first time Martha caught my eye, "What are they doing?"
"They are the newest contestants on a hit reality show. Queer Eye of the Midget Guys."
There was a long silence. Martha held up her hands, "I don't even want to know. Just leave."
"Martha please..."
"Leave."
I sighed and began to walk slowly towards the door. Laying my hand on the handle I turned one last time. "Do you remember when you asked me why I wanted you to stay?"
Martha nodded.
"I know the answer now."
Her eyes lost their anger and she gave me a questioning look.
I sighed. "I need you because you bring laughter to my life. You give me joy and peace and I have never felt so wonderfully carefree as I do when I am with you. I've already lost one woman I loved Martha, I wasn't about to do it again."
She stood there frozen like Galatea, pain in here eyes.
I shook my head. "I should have never come. I'm sorry. Good bye Martha." Stepping through the door I met the grim expressions of my sentries. "It didn't work."
"Come on fellas it's time to go," I mumbled gloomily to the 'Suplurflous Seven' and their production crew. The Joneses were sitting in leather massage chairs having their feet pedicured by Adolf while Franz laid cucumbers on their already green-cream-lathered faces.
"What?" B. B. Wolfe turned to me. "Did she say, 'yes' already?"
Prince Charming sighed, "She bit his head off."
"Ouch! My friend you really do not know how to handle the ladies do you?" the wolf cried.
Now I am not the most macho of men, but being told that you can't handle women by a cross-dressing wolf who occasionally pretends to be Martha Stewart really hurts.
Reaching down to shove away Edmund, who was trying to massage my back I sighed, "We need to leave," and began walking towards the elevators.
"WAIT!"
In unison sixteen heads snapped to see who was calling. (The Joneses did not have much success in this persuit as their eyes were currently covered by cucumber slices.)
"WAIT!" Martha came running up the hall. "Don't leave!"
She came to an abrupt stop, panting for breath. "I forgot to ask you for your autograph," she said breathlessly to Prince Charming.
There was a rather loud sound made as sixteen people collectively expelled their bated breath.
Charming awkwardly took a pad and pen from Martha and signed it.
"Thanks!" she gushed. "Oh and Daniel? If the position is still avalible...I'll be in your office at eight tomorrow."
I smiled, "Of course it is."
Smiling, she nodded and retreated back to her office. Cinderella kissed me on the cheek and the Frog Prince slapped me on the shoulder. "Good job, Doc."
"Thanks," I said contentedly. "Now, come on...let's go home."
Walking towards the elevators I turned and called out, "By the way, you can wire my million dollars to a bank account in Bermuda...but ship the potted plant directly to my office. No one will mind."
Leaving in our wake two now-very-femenine mafia hitmen...thirteen fairytale characters and I left the building together.
I am a very relaxed man. I like joy and laughter to create oddity and merriment in my life. I much prefer an unusual lifestyle to a quiet and monotonious existence. I now own a small, private, counseling office in an office in Bermuda, where I am a psychotherapist for fairytale characters (who have taught me something about life). It is around this practice that my story resolves.
Author's Note: Thank you to all who reviewed! This is the final chapter of OUAP. I hope you all have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. It's good to know I'm capable of writing humor. Albeit I didn't really like this chapter much but even if all you get out of it is a couple of half-hearted chuckles...I am pleased. (Oh and free prize to whoever can guess where the number, 211, comes from.)
Chapter Eleven
I adjusted my tie. "Everyone ready?"
Behind me thirteen heads of various shape, color, size, and sex nodded the affirmative.
"All right. Let's go." I took a deep breath and, plastering my best PR grin across my face, strode confidently through the double glass doors of the Brother's Grimm Fairytale Mafia National Headquarters.
I spotted the receptionist immediately and, making my way to her desk, confidently demanded, "I need directions to Martha Washington's office."
The little woman peered over her bifocals and down the bridge of her nose, eyes narrowed. She reminded me somewhat of a pencil, short and thin, with ramrod posture, yellowish skin covered with liver spots and a gray bun atop her head that could have passed for an eraser. And she was perfectly silent. This wasn't going as well as I had planned.
When at last she spoke, she moved her lips in an exaggerated motion as though enunciating clearly for a very small child. "Were you absent the day they taught manners in grammar school?"
My face twitched, trying to maintain its assured grin, "Uh, I..."
"Well, as Martha Washington has been dead nearly two hundred years..."
"SHE'S DEAD?!" I clutched the countertop.
Pencil Woman cocked an eyebrow, "Very funny."
"But she was just in my office yesterday!"
"The First Lady is dead and as it would be quite impossible to find her here, please take your..." she glanced behind me at my comrades, "...friends...and leave."
I let out a half-relieved sigh, half laugh, "No, no...she's my secretary!"
The enunciating lips opened again to reprimand me but before they could I was shoved out of the way by a very perturbed horse of a very charming prince.
"Do pardon my friend's rudeness gentle lady, he did not mean any offence." Behind us, two frilly princesses, one frogman, one old hag, seven homosexual midgets and one cross-dressing wolf snickered. The receptionist turned her frown to Prince Charming and now seemed more wary than peeved.
The Prince flashed his dimpled smile and continued, "The Mrs. Washington my friend refers to is not this nation's primary first lady, but rather our former secretary of the same name."
"Oh," she emitted a small laugh. I had seen Charming do this routine before. Five minutes and he'd have this woman swooning at his feet. Without the armor and stallion he could have easily passed for...
"Bond. James Bond." A rather handsome older man boasting a British accent and tuxedo strode up to the desk. He flashed a business card. "How are you MoneyPenny?"
With two magnanimous men suddenly turning on the charm for her full blast a woman could hardly be better. She swallowed and smiled girlishly, a smile that was rather out of place on such a severe face. "Doing well. You are here for your meeting with the Brother's Grimm, Mr. Bond?"
"How do you do it MoneyPenny? You astound me every time!"
She was batting her eyes rapidly now, "Fifth floor, room number 518."
Bond winked at her and strolled off to the elevators.
She sighed after him and said dreamily to Charming, "He's an ambassador from Britian." Then stood and pointed to the elevators, "Mrs. Washington will be on the second floor. Room number 211."
Prince Charming reached out, took her hand, and kissed it gallantly. "You have been so kind, thank you ever so much."
"All right, all right," the Big Bad Wolf growled, "Now let's go!"
The elevator doors opened with a ping! Cinderella handed the Big Bad Wolf his microphone and the Evil Witch flipped on her video camera. I shrank to the back of the lift as they filed out. Somewhere, a funky theme song began to play.
Through the crowd I could see the Joneses rise in unison and demand, "What is this? Who are you?"
The Evil Witched turned to zoom in to the Big Bad Wolf's face as he announced in an excellent impression of Alex Trebeck, "Hello, and welcome!" He (She? It was dressed in another pink nightgown.) threw an arm around the Left Jones, "I'm your host, B. B. Wolfe and you are on the newest reality show..."
The Seven Dwarfs swarmed around the black hit men and sang, "QUEER EYE OF THE MIDGET GUYS!"
The Joneses gave each other quizzical looks behind their mirrored sunglasses. B. B. Wolfe continued, "Starring the 'Superfluous Seven'! ADOLF!"
Adolf threw out his chest, "In GROOMING!"
"BENNO!"
Benno bowed deeply, "In FASHION!"
"CONRAD!"
"COOKIN'!" he spit into a fake fern.
The Wolf continued his spiel "DEDRICK!"
"INTERIOR DESIGN!" Dedrick pulled open his blazer and whispered, "And I can sell you some nice gold plated toothbrushes as well!"
"EDMUND!"
In a rap-star voice, "HAIR!"
"FRANZ!"
"HEALTH!" he called as he took a long drag from his joint.
"AAANNNDDDD....GUNTER!"
Gunter simply stood there.
"Well, ah...he's culture," the Wolf stage whispered.
The Right Jones nervously pushed away a pair of dwarf hands that were feeling the faberic of his suit and said, "Look here, we don't have time for..."
He never finished his sentence. Before he could draw a breath both men were being tugged away by the Suplerflous Seven and their production crew.
I slunk down the hall as stealthly as I could, followed by a Prince on a horse and a frogman and his wife. (Amazingly the horse did the best job of being inconspicious.)
When I finally reached the door I paused and said excitedly, "All right, Charming, you stay here and guard the enterance. Fred and Daisy, you create a diversion if anyone tries to enter. I'm going to go in there and win back my secretary!"
Daisy tilted her head, "How are you going to do that?"
"I have no idea!"
The three characters looked at each other and Fred slid me a sideways glance. "Great plan Doc."
I threw up my hands, took a deep breath...and entered the office.
Martha was sitting at her half-organized desk, munching on a turkey club sandwich while she straitened a picture frame. Her glasses chain bore musical notes today, which coordinated well with her black-on-white dress whose musical print was actually the notes to "Flight of the Bumblebee".
I cleared my throat.
Whatever fantasies I had had about Martha running to my arms flew rapidly out the window. The only reaction I provoked was a "go to hell" look and an expellation of air from her nostrals which, any stronger and I think it would have been considered a snort.
Being the stupid man I am I decided to take a hint from the British Ambassador of Fictional Characters and try again.
I swaggered up to her desk and said in my most sultry voice, "The name is Higgenbotham. Daniel Higgenbotham."
She rolled her eyes and turned her back on me. This really was not going well. That's the trouble with the name Higgenbotham...it's just to darn long.
"Martha won't you listen to me for just one minute?"
"No."
Well that's about as strait forward of an answer as you can get. "Please? Look I've come all this way and gone to a great deal of trouble to get in here."
"And how you did I will never know. My hitmen should have stopped you at the elevators." She slammed down a stack of files.
"The Joneses are a little busy at the moment."
For the first time Martha caught my eye, "What are they doing?"
"They are the newest contestants on a hit reality show. Queer Eye of the Midget Guys."
There was a long silence. Martha held up her hands, "I don't even want to know. Just leave."
"Martha please..."
"Leave."
I sighed and began to walk slowly towards the door. Laying my hand on the handle I turned one last time. "Do you remember when you asked me why I wanted you to stay?"
Martha nodded.
"I know the answer now."
Her eyes lost their anger and she gave me a questioning look.
I sighed. "I need you because you bring laughter to my life. You give me joy and peace and I have never felt so wonderfully carefree as I do when I am with you. I've already lost one woman I loved Martha, I wasn't about to do it again."
She stood there frozen like Galatea, pain in here eyes.
I shook my head. "I should have never come. I'm sorry. Good bye Martha." Stepping through the door I met the grim expressions of my sentries. "It didn't work."
"Come on fellas it's time to go," I mumbled gloomily to the 'Suplurflous Seven' and their production crew. The Joneses were sitting in leather massage chairs having their feet pedicured by Adolf while Franz laid cucumbers on their already green-cream-lathered faces.
"What?" B. B. Wolfe turned to me. "Did she say, 'yes' already?"
Prince Charming sighed, "She bit his head off."
"Ouch! My friend you really do not know how to handle the ladies do you?" the wolf cried.
Now I am not the most macho of men, but being told that you can't handle women by a cross-dressing wolf who occasionally pretends to be Martha Stewart really hurts.
Reaching down to shove away Edmund, who was trying to massage my back I sighed, "We need to leave," and began walking towards the elevators.
"WAIT!"
In unison sixteen heads snapped to see who was calling. (The Joneses did not have much success in this persuit as their eyes were currently covered by cucumber slices.)
"WAIT!" Martha came running up the hall. "Don't leave!"
She came to an abrupt stop, panting for breath. "I forgot to ask you for your autograph," she said breathlessly to Prince Charming.
There was a rather loud sound made as sixteen people collectively expelled their bated breath.
Charming awkwardly took a pad and pen from Martha and signed it.
"Thanks!" she gushed. "Oh and Daniel? If the position is still avalible...I'll be in your office at eight tomorrow."
I smiled, "Of course it is."
Smiling, she nodded and retreated back to her office. Cinderella kissed me on the cheek and the Frog Prince slapped me on the shoulder. "Good job, Doc."
"Thanks," I said contentedly. "Now, come on...let's go home."
Walking towards the elevators I turned and called out, "By the way, you can wire my million dollars to a bank account in Bermuda...but ship the potted plant directly to my office. No one will mind."
Leaving in our wake two now-very-femenine mafia hitmen...thirteen fairytale characters and I left the building together.
I am a very relaxed man. I like joy and laughter to create oddity and merriment in my life. I much prefer an unusual lifestyle to a quiet and monotonious existence. I now own a small, private, counseling office in an office in Bermuda, where I am a psychotherapist for fairytale characters (who have taught me something about life). It is around this practice that my story resolves.